


before and after

by iridescentprincess



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellamy Has Feelings, Commitment, Domestic Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Humor, Light Angst, POV Multiple, Romance, and doesn't know what to do with them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 23:52:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7552021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridescentprincess/pseuds/iridescentprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy sees a blonde girl in a crowd at Octavia's housewarming party, and doesn't know how to deal with feelings. Clarke meets a curly-haired asshole at her and Octavia's housewarming party and doesn't like him at all.</p><p>Events that take place before, during, and after a stormy night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	before and after

**Author's Note:**

> it's been such a long time since I wrote anything that wasn't related to FHFS! (and if you don't know what FHFS is, I ask you to read my ongoing fic about the same two people I always write about.)  
> I've been writing this whole summer, trust me, but I always ended up deleting it halfway through it. I got so sick of my writing that I decided to stop forcing myself to write and only writing if I felt like it. so many ideas in my head that I can't deliver properly!! it's so aggravating.  
> I'm finally satisfied somewhat with something, so I'm just going "fuck it" and posting. enjoy this hopefully!?

**TWO WEEKS BEFORE**

“So, is Bellamy Blake actually mooning over someone, or is the world ending?”

They’re at a housewarming party for Octavia and her new roommate, who he has yet to meet. His sister just moved into a new loft with the most gorgeous view of Ark City. It’s pretty great, especially for the price they’re paying. He can’t be more proud.

“What the fuck are you talking about now?” Bellamy asks lowly, like he’s tired of this conversation already. Which, he feels like he is.

“You’re staring,” Miller points out, taking a swig of his beer and pointing the spout of the bottle at his friend.

Bellamy takes a swig out of his own beer bottle, not looking at his best friend who is knowingly smirking at him now. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m not staring at anything.”

“Oh, yeah? Tell that to your shiny, mooning eyes. Who are you even staring at?” Miller follows his gaze, and Bellamy knows that he’s found her when he snorts. Bellamy sighs.

As soon as they entered his sister’s loft less than five minutes ago, his eyes landed on a blonde head. They pretty much haven’t drifted since.

“I thought you were more into brunettes,” is the only thing Miller says.

“Shut the hell up.”

“Why don’t you go over there and talk to her?”

Bellamy says nothing, choosing to drink more beer. He watches as the blonde girl takes another sip of her wine, talking with Raven and Jasper. She’s small, he notices. Small enough to be engulfed by his body.

“I’m gonna guess you’re not used to mooning over someone,” Miller continues, filling the silence. “You know, I get it, romance isn’t a normal thing for一”

“I’m not mooning over anybody,” Bellamy asserts, finally taking his eyes off of the girl to give Miller an angry expression. “I think she’s hot, so I’m looking.”

Miller raises an eyebrow, skeptical. “If you only thought she was _hot_ , you’d be charming your way into her panties right now, thinking about how to take her home. What’s different here?”

Bellamy raises his eyebrows. “My _attack_?”

“You know what I mean. You’re a womanizer.” Bellamy shrugs. He’s got a point. So what if he’d rather sleep with women than be tied down by one? Miller raises an eyebrow, staring dubiously at him. “But don’t avoid the question.”

Bellamy sighs. “Isn’t it obvious?” Both men stare ahead as Octavia walks up to the blonde he’s had his eyes on and hugs her, starting to chat animatedly with her. “Whoever she is, she’s close to my sister, and I can’t hook up with any of my sister’s friends.” It’d be awkward, and too much of a mess to clean up afterward.

“Have you thought about, you know, _not_ hooking up with her?” Miller asks. At Bellamy’s confused look, he rolls his eyes. “You know, like asking her out on a date?”

Bellamy huffs. “I don’t _date_ , Miller.”

“Only because you’ve never tried! Introduce yourself to her,” Miller advises, nudging him forward. Stumbling, Bellamy turns to glare at him.

Right on time, Octavia swivels her head and catches Bellamy’s clumsy act. She grins. “Bellamy, quit being a klutz and come over here! I have someone to introduce you to.”

“Here we go,” Miller whispers. Bellamy walks to Octavia and the blonde girl, trying to look away from her blue eyes and failing.

“Bell, this is Clarke Griffin, the roommate I was telling you about. She’s the one who introduced me to Lincoln. Clarke, this is my brother, Bellamy.”

Bellamy shakes her hand with a firm grip, but he honestly doesn’t know how he got his arm to raise like that, because he’s still processing what Octavia just said.  

_Roommate._

“Roommate,” he echoes, eyes transfixed in bewilderment. Out of all the girls currently in this loft, the girl that’s caught his eye is his sister’s fucking _roommate_ , which means that he’s going to be hearing一and seeing, oh dear lord一a lot of her. Fucking hell.

Clarke’s eyes widen considerably, shining with realization. “Oh, so you’re the overprotective older brother that Octavia is always complaining to me about,” she perceives, smirking slyly.  

Attraction and lust abruptly dissipates into boiling anger. “Excuse me? You don’t know anything about me.” And because he felt particularly daring, he adds, “Aren’t you an only child and spoiled princess?”

Octavia steps in between them, and this is when Bellamy realizes that he’s been edging closer and closer to the blonde since she started talking. “Whoa, guys, calm down, there’s no need to一”

“How dare you!” Clarke yells, her fists clenching and her eyebrows scrunching into a glare. He has to admit the sight isn’t very intimidating. In fact, it is _quite_ the opposite; he wants to smooth the crease on her forehead with his fingertips. _What?_ “I was fucking _joking_ , okay? But what gave you the right to talk to me like that?”

“一fight,” Octavia finishes lamely.

“Okay, I’m sorry, _princess_ ,” he apologizes, but he knows he doesn’t sound too sincere, judging by Clarke’s raised eyebrow. She crosses her arms.

“I don’t think it’s much of an apology if you call me princess,” she asserts.

Bellamy crosses his arms. “Whatever.”

Clarke glares. “Okay, fine. I guess I’m sorry too.” Her blue eyes on him feel as if they can physically pin him down, but then she turns and walks away from him without another word, her hips swaying somehow perfectly to the music in the background and her blonde hair swishing in still air. Octavia follows her, swiveling her head at the last second to raise her eyebrows in astonishment at her brother. Astonishment at what, he has no idea.

He blinks multiple times, staring blankly ahead. “Wow,” Bellamy murmurs. He doesn’t even realize he’s breathless until he lets out the breath he was holding.

“Hmm,” Miller hums, mulling things over. He was silent the entire time Bellamy was arguing with Clarke. “So, maybe she’s not your type.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy mutters, distracted. He takes a long gulp of beer. “Maybe.”

**FIVE DAYS BEFORE**

After unpacking the fifth box of the day, Clarke gives up and decides to take a shower.

“Okay,” Octavia says when Clarke tells her, “but if you’re taking a break, so am I.” She plops down on the couch, the only piece of furniture in the room that didn’t need assembling. The TV cabinet took longer to build than it needed to be.

When they had the housewarming party about a week ago, they only had the bare minimal furniture and decoration needed to impress guests. That meant that they had _boxes_ of random shit stuffed in their bedrooms hidden from guests, and eventually they realized they had to unpack those, which was what they were doing today.

Wiping her hands on a tea towel, she pads over to her bathroom, which is across the hall from her bedroom. The loft is truly a blessing, because this bathroom has _everything_ : a big shower, a nice tub, even two sinks for two roommates. It’s magical.

When Clarke finally finishes her hot, relaxing shower and steps out into the hallway wearing only a towel, she’s met with a dark figure blocking her path. Clarke screams.

Raising her head, she peers into brown eyes that she notices flit down to her chest and back up to her face. _Bastard._ “Bellamy, what the fuck are you doing here?” she hisses, scrambling to wrap the towel more tightly around her.

She hasn’t seen him since they both yelled each other until they were blue in the face and Bellamy decided to begrudgingly apologize to her and she decided to accept it and apologize too. So she wouldn’t say she’s on the best terms with him at the moment.

In the moments before he responds, she notices his attire一a plain navy blue shirt with black jeans and sneakers, the epitome of the laidback, _I don’t give a fuck about what I wear_ attitude that a lot of boys have.

He shuffles on his feet for a moment, as if nervous to be confronted by her. It looks like he wasn’t expecting to bump into her either. “O told me she needed help with setting up a desk in her room, so I came by,” Bellamy explains, training his eyes carefully on her face. Clarke can tell that he’s having a hard time keeping them there. “I’m just gonna一I’m gonna go do that now.” He moves past her, going into Octavia’s room at the end of the hall and shutting the door behind him.

A hint of a smirk blooms onto her face as she stares at the closed door. Having this effect on him is very amusing. She might start to hate Bellamy a little bit less now, now that she knows he doesn’t act as asshole-y as she thought.

Until she goes down to the kitchen and opens the refrigerator not twenty minutes later.

“Who the hell decided to eat my pad thai leftovers from last night?” she shouts, making her voice travel throughout the entire loft so that _both_ Blakes can hear her, because she’s got a feeling that one of them did it, and it’s not her roommate.

She was stressed pretty much this entire month after the move, and all she wanted after working all day at home was to eat some microwaved Thai food and sit on her couch but _of course_ Bellamy had to ruin that for her. She was going to have to talk to Octavia about her brother and how often he can come over.

That’s right, she’s going to give him _visiting hours_.

She almost gives up on waiting for a response from someone when she hears a door open and a yell from upstairs. “I was hungry!” Bellamy yells, not sounding the least bit contrite.

What was she expecting from him? “Get your own food, Blake!”

“Ouch, we’re bringing out last names now?”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that’s what happens when you _eat my food_!”

That’s when Bellamy’s head pops above the staircase, and Clarke gets ready to spew out every curse word in the book at him as he descends.  

As soon as he makes it into the kitchen, a mere five feet from her, she says, “You owe me Thai food after eating my whole box’s worth of it! Don’t you have the manners to not eat someone else’s food without their permission when you’re in their house?”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, and this time Clarke can believe the apology. The last apology he gave her didn’t really resonate within her as _contrite_.

But then his next words aren’t as easy to believe that they even came out of his mouth. “How about I make it up to you tomorrow night?”

Clarke rears her head back. No way is he… Is he seriously asking her… “What?”

Bellamy clears his throat, his demeanor turning nervous. “You heard me.”

“No, I actually didn’t,” she replies coyly, a hint of a smile on her face. She is messing with him and he knows it.

He looks at her as if to say _why are you making me do this_. He breathes loudly through his nose, silently laughing. “Will you, Clarke Griffin, allow me to take you out for dinner tomorrow night to make up for eating your leftovers?”

She pretends to ponder for a moment. Bellamy catches on to her act and starts to scowl at her, so she puts him out of his misery. “Yes. Pick me up at six.”

He starts to grin widely, with a growing happiness, but it stops when he realizes something. “Hey, I’m the one that asked you out! Shouldn’t I be the one making the plan? I’m picking you up at seven.”

Clarke grumbles, feeling like she lost even though they were never really fighting. Damn him. Why was she going on this date with him again? (She looks at his freckles and the curls covering his forehead, and she thinks, _that’s why_.) “What could you possibly change about the date by making it an hour later?”

Ruffling his hair quickly, his eyes glint with amusement. “You’ll see.”

**FOUR DAYS BEFORE**

Clarke waits.

She sits at the island in the kitchen, fiddling with her thumbs. The clock reads five minutes before seven in the evening, and Bellamy’ll be here any second now.

Octavia sees Clarke from the second floor landing. “Hey, you got a date tonight or something?”

“Yeah,” Clarke answers. Should she tell her that it’s with her brother? Maybe she shouldn’t; she doesn’t want to scare Octavia before things got serious. Maybe this was just a one-time thing.

“Well, have fun, babe,” the younger Blake says, padding over to her room. She hears her door close, and then all she can hear is the whooshing of cars outside. She glances over at the clock again. Three minutes to seven now.

She doesn’t know why she’s nervous. Maybe because it’s the first date she’s had in ages. The last time was months ago, with a guy who was the most boring man on the planet.

Any second now, right?

When the clock turns to thirty minutes after seven, and then forty-five, and then eight, Clarke’s hopes diminish and she walks all the way up to her room.

She should’ve known. Bellamy was a huge jerk, just like she thought, and it would never be a one-time thing. There wasn’t even a one time.

**A DAY BEFORE**

“What the fuck do you mean you _stood Clarke up_?”

Octavia’s voice yells in his ear through the phone, making Bellamy tilt his head away from the device. He winces. “I mean, I stood her up.”

“Could you not sound like an asshole for just five seconds? Please? God, I cannot believe I’m related to you. _You_ are the date that didn’t show up? Do you know how angry-sad Clarke’s been these past couple days?”

Closing his eyes, his heart drops in his stomach. He’s so stupid. He really fucked up, didn’t he? He rubs his palm over his forehead, dragging it down his face and stretching his face. “O, how is she?”

“She’s mostly fine, as far as I can tell. She just refuses to talk to me about it, probably because I’m fucking related to the shitty dickhead who didn’t fucking show up!” When Octavia gets mad, she tends to swear like a sailor, so he tries to calmly ignore the words she uses.

“I’m trying really hard to get to her, but she won’t answer my calls or texts,” he nearly growls to her, clutching his phone tighter.

She ignores him. “Why did you even ask her out if you weren’t gonna show up?”

“I一It’s hard to explain,” Bellamy states, rubbing the back of his neck.

Huffing, she argues, “It probably isn’t. You’re not a very complicated person, Bell.” She pauses. “You’re scared, aren’t you?”

Bellamy refrains from speaking. So maybe it isn’t that hard to explain. Why does his little sister know him so well?

He hears her gasp. “You are! Oh my god, she’s a girl, you’re a guy, she likes you, and you clearly like her. There’s nothing scary about being emotionally attracted to somebody, Bell. No matter how rare that is for you.”

“But一”

“No buts. I expect you to do something about this before Clarke goes into another rant about the male population. I’m really tired of defending you guys.”

**DURING**

_“The forecast today, ladies and gentlemen, is cold and stormy, unfortunately. This is the first major storm of the year, and hopefully the only one this year too. By noon, clouds will be rolling in accompanied by winds reaching thirty miles per hour, and by dusk we should have rain. We advise you to stay indoors today, and stay warm…”_

“Hey, are you hearing this?” Clarke shouts from the couch in the living room, holding a glass of wine in one hand and a grilled cheese sandwich in the other. She knows that the combination isn’t _normal_ , but fuck it, it’s freezing in the loft, and she wants comfort food.

“Hearing what? The sound of you drinking my bottle of wine?” Octavia yells from the kitchen, holding up the half-empty一or half-full, depending on her level of optimism一Pinot Noir.

Clarke shuts her mouth until taking another sip from her glass. “Um, something other than that,” she says lamely, because she doesn’t want to admit that she’s on her third glass of wine. “The news is talking about the storm.” Her head turns to the glass walls, eyeing the darkening clouds forming on the skyline of the city. It doesn’t look too good.

She hears Octavia groan and pad her way over to the couch with her fuzzy slippers. “The weather is such _shit_ today,” she pouts. Octavia sits down on the other end of the couch. “At least it’s the weekend, I can just lay around all day.” She grabs a blanket and immediately swathes herself in the fluffy brown material. Mimicking her, Clarke grabs the other blanket, a dark navy blue one, and lets it engulf her body sprawled out on the couch. She picks up the remote and flips through channels until she lands on _The Princess Diaries_.

Today is definitely going to be a lazy day.

Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rings. The girls simultaneously groan. “Not it!” Octavia chirps, a satisfied smug on her face.

“Ugh, fuck you,” Clarke groans, standing up and stretching before walking to the door. When she opens it, she’s in the middle of yawning, but she abruptly stops when she sees who’s standing in front of her. The person’s face is mostly covered with a bouquet of lilies, but she knows who it is. Of course she does.

“Fuck you,” she repeats, going to close the door. A foot lodges between the door and the wall, preventing it from slamming shut. _Right in his face, like he freaking deserved!_ “Clarke, dammit, stop,” a deep voice says, almost making Clarke take her hand off the door. Almost.

“No!” She attempts to close it again, kicking the sneaker-clad foot away to no avail. A tan hand shoots out in front of her, forcing the door to open and Clarke to move back.

Bellamy rushes in, the bouquet still held tight in his hands. She immediately tries pushing him backwards out the door, not caring if he trips and falls on his ass. He sputters, “Will you just一”

“ _No!_ ”

He places his hands on her shoulders, easily overpowering her in strength and size. Leading them into the hallway, he kicks the door shut behind him with his foot and sighs deeply.

“Clarke,” he starts. “I’m sorry.”

She glares resentfully. For the first time in her life, she imagines the blues of her eyes lighting him on fire, or, more appropriately, freezing him into an icy statue. “No.”

“Can you say anything to me other than no?”

“No,” she says, petulant. “Can you say anything other than _I’m sorry_? Because that’s all I’ve been hearing from you lately.” It’s true. The three voicemails he left in her inbox, the nine missed calls, and the twenty messages he sent her over the past four days all contain some version of an apology.

“Look, it’s because I’m really sor一” Bellamy stops after seeing the slow rage on Clarke’s face. “If you don’t want me to apologize, what the hell do you want me to do?” His face is pleading, but frustrated. _Oh, he’s frustrated_?

“Who’s at the door?” Octavia’s voice chimes from the living room, reminding the both of them that they’ve been standing in the hallway for a while.

Clarke holds off on replying to her. “I want you to get out before your sister knows you’re here!” she hisses, careful not to raise her voice lest her roommate hears.

Bellamy grins, ignoring her tone and obvious fury. “On the contrary, I’d rather see my sister right now, maybe catch up with her.”

“You talk to her almost _everyday_! Now get out!”

He pushes past her with his hands on her shoulders, moving further into the room. “Hey, O,” he calls, putting a smile on his face, as if they weren’t just arguing a couple seconds ago.

They found the brunette in the same position on the couch that Clarke left her. “Hey, big brother, what are you doing here? Don’t you know there’s a storm coming?” Octavia asks, worry edging onto her porcelain features, but at the same time she’s… Smiling?

 _He already knew the storm was coming, because he just faced one,_ Clarke thinks _._ “He was just about to leave, weren’t you, Bellamy?” the blonde interjects, fixing a pointed look at him so that he can get the message that she’s really not in the mood to talk to him.

Before anyone can say anything else, a flash of light comes from the window, and then a loud _boom_ resonates throughout the house, sounding like it came from right outside. _Thunder and lightning_. The rain follows soon after, pattering on the roof of their loft.

Despite the drastic change in weather, Bellamy smirks. “I would leave, but there’s a bad storm outside,” he points out the obvious, as if the two woman didn’t just witness it with him. “There’s already lightning, and that thunder came really fast after it. It’s probably close by.”

Clarke imagines the vivid image of Bellamy suddenly bursting into flames and running outside into the pouring rain to put it out. Walking around him, she goes back to her seat on the couch with the rest of her grilled cheese, which is now cold, and empties the rest of the wine in her glass into her mouth. Bellamy sits in the armchair, placing the flowers that he was still holding on the table. His brown eyes never leave her blue ones. Is he going to annoy her like this all night?

Then the television turns off, and so do the lights in the kitchen and living room. The room is suddenly swathed in darkness, apart from the natural light filtering in from the window. That light might disappear soon; the storm seems to be getting worse outside.

With the lights out, it’s hard to even see anyone’s expressions. Bellamy’s face is just a sea of blackness at this point. “Guess we’re gonna have to deal with no power for a while.”

They sit there for a couple of minutes, all three of them going to their phones for something to do.

“I’m going to go take a bath,” Octavia announces, breaking the silence and the tension in the room.

Clarke turns to watch her friend get up off the couch. “What? But the power’s out!”

“That’s what candles are for!” she yells, going up the stairs and leaving Clarke alone with Bellamy.

And judging by Octavia’s expression, she’s doing it on purpose. She never told her what happened between her and Bellamy, but he probably told her.

Great. Just fucking great.

Bellamy doesn’t make any movements or signs that signals he wants to talk to her, so she just goes back to finishing her grilled cheese sandwich. She pours herself another glass of wine, on her phone the whole time. The rain continues to smack against the pavement outside, and every so often, lightning strikes and thunder booms in the distance, echoing into her ears. Clarke’s actually glad the weather is like this the day he confronts her cold shoulder; it fills the silence.

“Grilled cheese and wine? I guess it’s a decent combination.”

“Ah!” Clarke gasps, nearly dropping wine all over her shirt. She swivels her head to see a head of curls sitting next to her. The lack of light in the room makes it hard to see his face, but the curls are pretty distinctive. “When did you get there?”

“A couple minutes ago. Look, can I just explain why I didn’t show up?”

The blood in her veins ice over, which somehow makes her feel like she’s burning. It seems as if the anger is physically melting off of her in waves, but as the feeling progresses, she finds herself tired out. She opts for a one-word response. “Fine.”

“I’m not the dating type,” he begins.

Clarke snorts. “Oh, nice way of starting it off.”

“Shush. I’m not done yet,” he claims, ruffling his hair a little. Clarke notices that he does that when he’s nervous. “I’m not the dating type. But you’re the first girl I’ve seen that’s making me reconsider whether I want to change that.”

A small warmth blooms in her chest. He continues on, carefully watching her expression. Lightning flashes against the windowpane, followed by a chaotic rumble of thunder.

“So I asked you out on a whim. I wasn’t planning on doing it, but I did it and I don’t regret it. What I do regret is standing you up.” Clarke frowns, and it’s the first time she’s showing any amount of sadness towards him. His whole body lurches forward, and it looks like he’s going to touch her cheek, but he takes her hand instead. His hand is warm, like a blanket, and she’s struck with the sudden desire to have his touch everywhere. “I’m scared. Scared of changing myself, when all I’ve ever known is one-night stands and casualty. I’m scared… Of you.” He stares at their hands touching the as he speaks, and she can tell it was hard to admit what he said.

“Damn right, you should be,” Clarke teases, letting him know she’s joking with a grin. He laughs a little, and the deep chuckle seems to wash over her, fading into the darkness surrounding them. “But really, you shouldn’t be scared of me because you’re scared of commitment.” At the word, he winces. “That scared of commitment? It was _one date_ , Bellamy.”

He shrugs. “I know, but it felt different somehow. You made it feel more important.”

Clarke feels her face heat up despite the chilly air in the room. “And that scares you,” she says. He confirms the statement with a nod.

“And I’m not saying that I’ll be a hundred percent romantic for right now, or whatever, but I’m asking for another chance. If I haven’t already scared you off with a serious talk about commitment.”

She eyes him suspiciously. “Okay,” she allows. “But you better not fuck up again.”

“I won’t.”

**A MONTH AFTER**

It has to be perfect.

Today marks his and Clarke’s first month anniversary, and if this isn’t the best anniversary ever, he’s going to punch a wall. He _needs_ this. He needs to do this.

“I can’t do this,” Bellamy says, pacing his kitchen in worry.

“You can do this,” Octavia asserts, pointing a finger at him for emphasis. “You’ve been with her for a month now. I’m pretty sure she’s seen all the bullshit you’re capable of doing.”

“Shut the fuck up, will you? You’re worse than Miller.”

“He does call you out on a lot of bullshit,” she notices. One of the reasons why he’s called over his _little sister_ instead of his best friend for advice is strictly because of that. “Anyways, you can do this.”

“ _How_ do I do this, though?”

The twenty-year old rolls her eyes. “Have you never celebrated an anniversary with someone before?”

“O, do I need to answer that question for you?”

His sister sighs, with the look that says _no, no you do not you idiot_. “Just make her dinner, with glasses of wine or champagne or something, and then spend the night in bed. Easy.”

He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it already is. “What if I mess up the dinner? What if she hates the food? What if she comes home from class really tired and wants to order takeout or something?”

Octavia groans. “Stop worrying about things like that! _What if’s_ are useless torments. She’ll like the dinner, and she’ll love you.”

“Okay, okay,” Bellamy breathes, trying not to freak out.

“I’m going to go now, but remember not to panic alright? You’ll be fine,” she declares, and she shuts the front door behind her.

Now he needs to go to the grocery store to get ingredients for a chicken alfredo.

When Clarke arrives at his place hours later, he’s in the middle of setting the table while he’s waiting for the chicken to finish cooking. The pasta is already boiled, the wine is on the counter, but he’s still got an apron on over his dress shirt and khakis.

Basically, he’s fucked.

“Don’t come in the kitchen!” Bellamy yells, half hoping that Clarke will listen to him but half knowing she won’t, because reverse psychology is a bitch.

“What, why?” Next thing he knows, he sees a bare foot with deep red toenails from the corner of his eye enter the kitchen and he’s seething. Shit!

“Are you cooking dinner? It smells delicious,” she comments, sniffing the air. “What’s the special occasion?”

Bellamy nearly drops the plates on the floor. She _did not_ just…

Did she forget their anniversary, or was he in some alternate universe?

Because there should not be a world where he remembers something like a _date when a couple officially got together_ and Clarke doesn’t. Isn’t he the one with commitment issues?

At the horrid look he gives her, she immediately steps back, eyes widening as big as saucers. The realization is clear as day on her face“Did I forget our anniversary?”

Bellamy almost loses the ability to respond. He clears his throat loudly. “Yes, you did.”

“Oh my god.” She sits down in her regular seat at his dining room table, putting her head in her hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s probably the first time you’ve ever apologized to me since we started dating. Amazing,” he remarks. The more this situation drags out, the more humor he can find in it. Clarke would be the last person who forgot something like an important date. He saw the date circled three times on her calendar, for fuck’s sake.

“Hey, I didn’t stand you up on our first date!” she shouts, getting up to stand closer to him.

He scoffs, his mouth opening in shock. “I thought we agreed to not use the _stood you up_ card!”

Clarke groans. “How can I make this up to you? I know I shouldn’t make excuses, but classes have been tough recently, and一”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, I get it,” he says, going over to her to wrap his arms around her. She hugs him back.

With her face buried in his chest, she mumbles, “I’ll help you make dinner.”

“You don’t have to. It’s almost done anyway.”

“I’ll finish what you were doing and set the table then,” Clarke devises. “Oh, and you got wine! I’ll get the wine glasses.”

Nodding reluctantly, he allows her to take the plates from him and finishes putting everything they need on the table for dinner.

They eat the chicken alfredo, and although the chicken is a bit overcooked because of their conversation, it’s still really good. Clarke scarfs down her entire plate and makes Bellamy laugh at the alfredo sauce on her lips.

And after, when they’re bloated and in the middle of a food coma, they fall asleep on the couch watching whatever’s on TV. They forget to have anniversary sex.

(Clarke makes it up to him the next morning, though, when she wakes him up with her mouth on him.)

**TEN MONTHS AFTER**

“Clarke?” Bellamy’s voice travels to the living room from his office upstairs.

“In here,” she calls, watching the newest _Grey’s Anatomy_ on the sofa, her toes bundled in a warm pair of一Bellamy’s一socks and her body enveloped in一Bellamy’s一blankets. She’s been staying over at his apartment for a little while now, and every time she spends more than one night here she finds herself slowly being taken over by Bellamy’s objects. She’s even smelling like him; she ran out of her lavender body wash in her shower and she had to resort to Bellamy’s soap. Now she smells very masculine, but she kinda likes it. A lot.

Ever since their second try on a first date, they’ve been together. She still lives with Octavia in their loft, but lately people can find Clarke here, in Bellamy’s one-bedroom apartment. It’s simple, and neat, and a lot closer to school than her loft is, and Bellamy gets a lot of sex when she stays over, so. It’s a win-win.

She hears his feet pad down the stairs and into the hallway before ending up in the living room. He takes a seat beside Clarke, looking almost _too_ nonchalant. Something’s up.

Muting the TV, she turns her body, blankets and all, to face him fully. He fishes something out of his pocket, but Clarke can’t see what it is because his wide hand covers the whole thing. “What is that, Bell?”

He fiddles with it for a second, and she can finally see through his long fingers that it’s a dark velvet box, the type of box someone would put a一

“Bellamy, what is that?” she asks again, louder this time. “Is that一”

“It’s not an engagement ring, if that’s what you’re asking,” he clarifies, and Clarke lets out the breath she was holding. Bellamy raises an eyebrow. “Would it really be that bad if it was?”

“No, I guess not, but you know it’s still too early for marriage. I just turned twenty-two, for Christ’s sake!”

“Well, I’m twenty-seven, and I’m feeling like it’s about time I have some commitment in my life,” he murmurs softly, with an undercurrent of seriousness. He spreads his fingers out, showing her the black box resting on his palm.

With careful fingers, he props it open to reveal a thin, rose gold band lined with small diamonds lying in the crevice of the box.

“A promise ring,” Bellamy presents, swallowing, “to show how much I love you. I’m committed to you, in this relationship, and I hope you’ll wear this ring to show that you’re committed to me, as well.” He stares at her during his whole speech, and Clarke feels tears brim over her eyes.

“Give me the damn ring,” she orders, holding her right hand out. He slips it onto her right ring finger, and it fits perfectly. She attempts to speak through her quiet sobs. “Oh, goddammit, you even got my ring size right. How did you manage to get my ring size right?”

“Your fingers are small. I went for the smallest size they had and hoped for the best,” he explains, leaning over to press a lingering kiss on her forehead. She laughs through her tears. He has yet to let go of her right hand; he won’t stop running his thumb over the ring that has now found its place on her ring finger, hopefully forever.

**Author's Note:**

> here's a drinking game for you: read this fic again and take a shot every time you see the word "sorry"


End file.
